It's an acquired taste perhaps, but I love it when it snows. Blizzards need not apply, but this? I love it!
Don't know why, but this kind of weather makes me content. I feel like curling up with a nice cup of coffee and just watching the world go by.
That light in the parking lot, looks kind of like a small sun. One benefit of it is that when Your Humble Scribe prowls the upper passageways of Chez Sarge in the wee, dark hours of the night, I don't need to burn my own electricity. That "little sun" lights the way very nicely.
Supposed to be mildy snowy all week. I love it. Of course, it needs to ease up on Friday as the Missus Herself is winging her way to Cali, for to visit the grandchildren. Mustn't disappoint them, they are eager to see grand-mère. Hhhmm, as the Missus is Korean, that would be 할머니.
But for now, je suis très heureux.
(That would be "happy", 'kay?)
The pictures were taken with my Samsung Galaxy S III. I thought they were, how do you say, pas mal, not bad, n'est pas?
Sultan Knish seems to think so, can't say I disagree with him.
I'm a conservative, I would think that the Republicans should be courting my vote, not the votes of Democrats. But that's just me. Maybe I don't get it.
You may have noticed that in my last post, I was very much in a blue funk. The French called it Le Cafard.
Now un cafard, is literally a cockroach. Apparently, to alleviate boredom in their garrisons in Algeria and Morocco, French Foreign Legionnaires would kill cockroaches (some sources say, shooting them with their rifles, a practice no good sergeant would allow more than once or perhaps twice). At any rate, the term le cafard came to mean an extreme depression or a sense of pointlessness.
So yes, that's where I was at yesterday. Suffering from le cafard. (Hhhmm, can you imagine calling in sick to work and telling your boss, "Yeah, I won't be in today. I'm suffering from le cafard." That might be interesting.)
Speaking of the French Foreign Legion (la Légion Etrangère Française), here's their song Le Boudin:
The words to that tune, ici: En Français Refrain: Tiens, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorrains. Pour les Belges y en a plus. Pour les Belges y en a plus. Ce sont des tireurs au cul. Pour les Belges y en a plus. Pour les Belges y en a plus. Ce sont des tireurs au cul. 1er couplet: Nous sommes des dégourdis, Nous sommes des lascars Des types pas ordinaires. Nous avons souvent notre cafard, Nous sommes des légionnaires. Au Tonkin, la Légion immortelle À Tuyen-Quang illustra notre drapeau, Héros de Camerone et frères modèles Dormez en paix dans vos tombeaux. (Refrain) 2ème couplet: Nos anciens ont su mourir Pour la gloire de la Légion. Nous saurons bien tous périr Suivant la tradition. Au cours de nos campagnes lointaines, Affrontant la fièvre et le feu, Oublions avec nos peines, La mort qui nous oublie si peu. Nous la Légion. (Refrain) And in English: Chorus: Here you are, some blood pudding, some blood pudding, some blood pudding For the Alsatians, the Swiss, and the Lorrains, For the Belgians, there's none left, For the Belgians, there's none left, They're lazy shirkers. For the Belgians, there's none left, For the Belgians, there's none left, They're lazy shirkers. 1st verse: We are crafty. We are rogues. We are no ordinary guys. We've often got our black moods, For we are Legionnaires. In Tonkin, the Immortal Legion Honoured our flag at Tuyen Quang. Heroes of Camarón and model brothers - Sleep in peace in your tombs. (Repeat Chorus) 2nd verse: Our ancestors knew to die For the glory of the Legion. We will know to perish According to tradition. During our far-off campaigns, Facing fever and fire, Let us forget, along with our hardships, Death, which forgets us so little. (For) We (are), the Legion. (Repeat Chorus)
Yes, Le Boudin is blood sausage, quite palatable depending on how it is prepared. I doubt La Légion has three-star* Michelin chefs. But you never know. So what brought on this case of Le Cafard? Well, I pretty much covered that in my last post. But frequent commenter Tuna had a theory, it's the weather. The lack of sunlight in the winter and the grays and browns of the landscape tend to cause depression. He's absolutely correct there, for most people in the Northern climes. But, being rather a contrarian, in some things, I realized that while Tuna was correct with his weather theory, he was off as to the type of weather. For you see, I grew up in New England. Bright sunny skies are what you get in the summer. In the winter I expect overcast skies, a heavy feeling in the air and the smell of snow. For it DOES have a smell, as does rain. They're similar but subtly different. The Missus Herself scoffed the first time I said it "smells like snow". The next day, as the accumulation approached six inches, she no longer thought I was crazy. Well, not as it relates to weather smells. In other things? Let's just say the jury is still out. One thing that always bums me out is not having any snow on the ground at Christmas. Which is pretty typical for Rhode Island. We'll get snow the week before, which will be all melted by Christmas Day. Or we'll get snow the week after, which will linger into mid-January at times. Eventually becoming mostly snirt along the roadsides and heaped in great nasty piles in parking lots. While the brown grass just lies there in the bright sunshine. Bright sunshine in February? Wrecks my sense of equilibrium. Give me a day like that depicted in the lead-in photo. Aye, that's winter. Not this sun shining, cold as an accountant's heart, brown grass nonsense which has been prevalent for weeks now. Gimme some snow dammit! Of course, when (if) we get snow, we'll probably get two feet. With winds gusting to 40 mph. Not the gentle snowfall which accumulates to no more than a few inches, making everything look clean and new. But even that would beat this sunny, brown sterility. Yuck. If we're going to have winter, then let's have winter!
*This originally said "five-star", Michelin only goes up to 3 stars. H/T to Sensei Buck for the correction!
I have a feeling this is going to be a rough month. Let me explain.
Three years ago this month, my Dad passed away. That still hurts, a lot. There are moments when I miss him so badly, everything around me just stops. For a brief moment in time the pain of that loss is almost overwhelming. But I suck it up and drive on. Oddly enough, the last two February's I was more concerned with how my Mom was doing, as the anniversary of Dad's death would approach and then pass. The main difference between the last two February's and this one, is that for the last two I was living in a hotel for four days each week. And on the anniversary of Dad's passing I was actually at the hotel. Oddly enough (again), I was living in that very same hotel when Dad got sick. As a matter of fact, it was at that hotel that I talked to my Dad for the very last time. In this life. So in a very odd kind of way, that hotel kind of connected me with my Father over the last few weeks of his life.
Back in August I returned to the "home office", as it were. No more staying in a hotel for 4 days out of seven. I could sleep in my own bed. Little did I realize that I would come to actually miss the hotel. Well, not the hotel exactly. It's the fact that in one of the rooms in that hotel, is the place where I was last able to talk with my Dad on this Earth. That's gone. Seems weird maybe, but this seems to be affecting me, a lot.
And this year, the Missus Herself is traveling (again) out to Cali. Leaving me all by myself on the anniversary of my Dad's passing. (Odd. I keep starting to type the word "death" here, and quickly backspace and type "passing" instead. I typically don't do euphemisms. Here I am, doing just that.) So I'll be dealing with my Dad's passing. Then there's Lex. You know (or maybe you don't), that fellow over there near the top of the sidebar. The first anniversary of his untimely demise approaches. Six days after the anniversary of my Dad's passing. Double whammy.
Lex is the reason I got into blogging. My inspiration. For as I could no longer go to his blog every day for his latest insight/topic/sea story, I felt something missing. Oh, there are other blogs, as I've discovered since I started my own, but it's not the same. And those other bloggers, those who followed Lex, they'll tell you the same. So I started my own blog, to fill that "howling emptiness" and it's also therapeutic (if not absolutely cathartic on some days) and really has become a lot of fun. In many ways.
So there I was. Morale teetering on the brink. Of something.
Yesterday (Saturday, Groundhog Day) I felt the beginnings of an "emptiness" filling my soul. I don't like that feeling. Not at all. So I start to go through my daily "blog slog" (as I call it). When I hit one of the new blogs I've started following recently, I found this. Felt way better I did. FWIW, Way Up North has become one of my daily "must reads".
Another of my daily "must reads" is The Lexicans. I also post there from time to time so I'm like a part owner over there. Many of those who followed Neptunus Lex, now post at and follow The Lexicans. But the primary reason I go there is because we always have a link to one of Lex's old posts from that calendar day.
When I have time, I'll wander through the archives at Neptunus Lex. I still marvel at the man's talent for writing and his insight into human nature. And the stories of flying, ahhh, I could read those over and over again. But in some ways, going back there can be fraught with peril for those who knew and loved the man. For there are things there which will gut punch you when you're not really ready for it. I had one of those moments this most recent Christmas.
Found a beautiful post Lex had written on a Christmas Eve. It was very touching. It was nearly a gut punch when I first watched it (for it was a slide show, with music). But I enjoyed it for the look it gave at the love Lex had for his family.
For those who must, here it is. (Lexican's beware...)
The gut punch did come. When I noticed the date of the post, Christmas Eve 2011. In other words, the last Christmas Eve Lex's family would have him. The last his many fans would have him. His last on the planet. Gut punch.
But I revisited part of that post today. Not the whole post but the music Lex chose for his little family slide show. The song is "Gabriel's Message", and it's a Basque Christmas folk carol about the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary by the archangel Gabriel that she would become the mother of Jesus Christ the Son of God. As sung by Sting. (Yes, that one.)
Here are the lyrics:
The angel Gabriel from heaven came His wings as drifted snow his eyes as flame "All hail" said he "thou lowly maiden Mary, Most highly favoured maid," Gloria!
"For known a blessed mother thou shalt be, All generations laud and honor thee, Thy Son shall be Emanuel, By seers foretold Most highly favoured maid," Gloria!
Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head "To me be as it pleaseth God," she said, "My soul shall laud and magnify His Holy Name." Most highly favoured maid Gloria!
Of her Emanuel, the Christ was born In Bethlehem all on a Christmas morn And everyone throughout the world forever saved Most highly favoured maid Gloria!
And the song itself...
The message is beautiful. It helps me to stay in touch with my faith. Yes, I am one to wallow in sentimentality from time to time. And as this month looks to be hard on the old emotions, blogging may be sporadic from time to time. Or not. We'll see how it goes.
Also, FWIW, I was looking at the header for the blog the other day, felt something was missing. 'Tis missing no more.
Okay, we're talking Bollywood here. For those who dinna ken what that is, here ya go, courtesy (of course) of Wikipedia -
Bollywood is the informal term popularly used for the Hindi-language film industry based in Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay), Maharashtra, India. The term is often incorrectly used to refer to the whole of Indian cinema; however, it is only a part of the total Indian film industry, which includes other production centers producing films in multiple languages. Bollywood is the largest film producer in India and one of the largest centers of film production in the world.
Bollywood is formally referred to as Hindi cinema. There has been a growing presence of Indian English in dialogue and songs as well. It is common to see films that feature dialogue with English words (also known as Hinglish), phrases, or even whole sentences.
No doubt you're wondering what sent me down this particular path. Well, once upon a time, many moons ago we had a very good friend from India, via Bahrain. Of course, that's a much longer story than I'll go into here, with many a subtle nuance and intriguing twist. But like I say, that particular tale is for another time.
Suffice to say this particular story involves the movie Lagaan and our dear friend Reshma. Now once upon a weekend, Reshma had an idea that we'd eat Indian cuisine and watch an Indian movie. Now the Missus Herself and I had no problem at all with this, being world travelers of some renown and connoisseurs of many things not of our own native lands. (Mine being the US of A, hers being the Republic of Korea.) The WSO and the Nuke were still in college back in those days. But they were (and still are actually) military brats, so foreign ways were not strange to them. They also figured it might be fun.
So dinner and a show it was!
Now there was a bit of a twist to all this. The movie was in Hindi, and as there were no more copies at the movie place in Worcester with subtitles of an English nature, Reshma would have to interpret for us. Not a big problem. I've watched many a foreign film with a complete lack of subtitles and managed to enjoy myself. (Though one film I watched recently had no subtitles and the actors were speaking Chinese, English, German and Japanese. Not all at once mind you but things did get confusing from time to time.) Okay, no English, no problem. Then Reshma asked if we knew anything about cricket. "Like the bug, which makes a chirping noise? Or the sport played in foreign lands which no American is remotely capable of understanding? Even though, or perhaps because, it was invented by the English." I queried.
"Uh, that would be the sport of cricket." Reshma answered. "But not to worry, let's eat and I'll explain cricket to you."
"Uh, not to be a bother. But why do we need to understand cricket?" I wondered aloud. "Pretty much the movie is about a cricket match." she explained. Okay, at that point I was really intrigued. So Reshma gave us the 30-minute introduction to cricket. We finished our dinner (which I might add was very good, though I forget exactly what it was, I know it involved rice, curry and naan) and proceeded to the TV room for to watch the movie. So here's a brief synopsis of the movie, again courtesy of Wikipedia -
Lagaan takes place in the small village of Champaner, now in the State of Gujarat, in western India during the height of the British Empire in India in 1893. Captain Andrew Russell (Paul Blackthorne), the commanding officer of the Champaner cantonment, has imposed high taxes ("lagaan") on people from the local villages which they are unable to pay due to a prolonged drought. Led by Bhuvan (Aamir Khan), the villagers beg Raja Puran Singh (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) to help them. He tells them that much to his regret, he is also bound by British law.
It is after their visit to the Raja that the people of the village first witness a cricket match. Bhuvan mocks the game and gets into a fight with one of the British officers. Taking an instant dislike to Bhuvan, Russell offers to cancel the taxes of the whole province for three years if the villagers can beat his men in a game of cricket. If the villagers lose, however, they will have to pay three times the amount of their normal taxes. Bhuvan accepts this wager on the behalf of all villages without their consent. When the other villagers find out about the bet, they are furious with Bhuvan. He argues that it is important for everyone to fight against British rule.
Bhuvan thus begins to prepare the villagers for the match. He initially finds only five people willing to join the team. He is aided in his efforts by Russell's sister Elizabeth (Rachel Shelley) who feels that her brother has mistreated the people in the villages. As she teaches them the rules of the game, she falls in love with Bhuvan, much to the anguish of Gauri (Gracy Singh) who is also in love with him. After Bhuvan reassures Gauri of his feelings for her, the woodcutter Lakha (Yashpal Sharma) becomes enraged as he is also in love with Gauri. In an attempt to discredit Bhuvan, Lakha offers himself as a spy for Russell and joins the villager's team in order to destroy it. Eventually, as the villagers realise that winning equals freedom, and as a few of them are insulted by the British, they join the team. Still short one player, Bhuvan also invites an untouchable, Kachra (Aditya Lakhia), who can bowl leg spin. The villagers, conditioned by longterm prejudice against untouchables, refuse to play if Kachra joins the team. Bhuvan chastises the villagers, leading them to accept Kachra.
That's pretty much it in a nutshell. The second part of the movie is the game between the villagers (the good guys) and the British (the bad guys). It was pretty well done and actually exciting. Cricket is interesting if you know what's going on.
Spoiler Alert: If you plan on actually renting this movie, skip to the video.
(The good guys win, they don't have to pay taxes and it starts to rain. Aamir gets the girl, happy ending. Go to credits. And yes, I think Gracy Singh is hot. Smokingly so. YMMV)
That, by the way, is my favorite song from the film, Mitwa. One weekend, Reshma came to visit and actually helped us with some renovations to the palace. Did I mention that she'd given me the soundtrack to Lagaan on CD, no? Well, she had done that. While we worked we played the CD. She was somewhat impressed that I could sing along with Mitwa. I didn't know what the words meant but I'm a quick study and pick up the rhythm of a language pretty quickly. (For what it's worth, Hindi is a very cool-sounding language.)
So there we were, putting down flooring and singing in Hindi. Reshma and I were having a jolly good time. The Missus Herself? Not so much. Not that she doesn't like the music, it was more what I was doing to the music. For, much to my infinite sadness, I don't sing very well. Oh, I can bellow out a marching song with a great deal of volume, but something more delicate? Not my forte, if you will. But we did have fun. Singing while one works does make things a bit easier I guess. (I'm thinking next time I'll do a sea shanty, perhaps this one -
Ooh, I like that, I like it indeed. But we're way off topic at the moment. "Helm, hard left rudder, get us back on course!"
"Hard left rudder - Aye! Getting back on topic - Aye!")
'Tis time to reveal another aspect of the Old AF Sarge. I like Indian music. I know that's kind of a broad category. I know there are lots of nuances and such, different types, blah, blah, blah. Hey, I said I liked it, I didn't say I was an expert. 'Kay?
I learned to appreciate other cultures rather early in life. Which iskind of odd, considering that I grew up in a small town in Vermont. A pretty white-bread kind of place. Then again, we had a large Polish population in my home town, so it's not like we were all a lot of folks from the British Isles like many small New England towns.
But that's not the point. One of my absolute favorite teachers of all time was a man of Chinese descent, John Wu. He was my social studies teacher in two separate grades in junior high school (for that's what they called it back then).
He made sure we learned about other cultures. Oddly enough, you'd think we would've learned a lot about China, considering Mr. Wu's ancestry. But no, India was the thing. The history, the food and the music. Ah, the music. Like this -
I could listen to the sitar and the tabla for hours on end (and actually have, but again, that's another story). While the Beatles may have introduced me to Ravi Shankar, it was John Wu who gave me an appreciation for Indian culture.
Suddenly I feel the urge to be off with the morning tide. Weigh anchor, set sail and be off over the horizon for unknown lands and exotic foreign shores. Someplace warm, methinks.
Yes, it's February, time for "The Very Rich Hours of the Duc de Berry in February". Um, no, not really but I digress.
Looking for a way to start the month without having to think of the insanity in DC and elsewhere in this (once?) great Nation of ours, I just "Googled" February. Lots of interesting stuff in Wikipedia about February, much of which is trivial but nonetheless interesting, at least to me. But what really caught my eye was the reproduction of that painting depicted above.
Wikipedia says that the painting "is possibly the best example of French Gothic manuscript illumination surviving to the present day". Furthermore, "The Très Riches Heures is a book of prayers to be said at canonical hours created for John, Duke of Berry, by the Limbourg brothers between 1412 and 1416."
That may well be. It caught my eye primarily because of the painter's use of the color blue.
I like blue. Perhaps you knew that, if not go read this. At any rate, I thought the painting was exquisite. YMMV.
Trivial facts about February (from Wikipedia, naturellement):
February starts on the same day of the week as March and November in common years, and on the same day of the week as August in leap years. February ends on the same day of the week as October every year and on the same day of the week as January in common years only. In leap years, it is the only month that ends on the same weekday it begins.
February starts on the same day of the week as both March and November in common years, and August in leap years.
Having only 28 days in common years, it is the only month of the year that can pass without a single full moon. It is also the only month of the calendar that once every six years and twice every 11 years, will have only four full 7-day weeks. Where the first day of the month starts on a Monday and the last day ends on a Sunday, this was observed in 2010 and can be traced back 11 years to 1999, 6 years back to 1993, 11 years back to 1982, 11 years back to 1971 and 6 years back to 1965; and so on twice 11 years consecutively and once six years either forward into the future or back into the past. This works unless the pattern is broken by a skipped leap year, but no leap year has been skipped since 1900 and no others will be skipped until 2100. (Years that are evenly divisible by 100 are not leap years, unless they are also evenly divisible by 400, in which case they are leap years.) A year of this kind would be a common year starting on Friday. It cannot happen in a leap year.
Okay then. At any rate, welcome to February. Tomorrow is Groundhog Day, I guess we'll see how much longer winter will last. Based on the prognostications of a large rodent.
The groundhog (Marmota monax), also known as a woodchuck, whistle-pig, or in some areas as a land-beaver, is a rodent of the family Sciuridae, belonging to the group of large ground squirrels known as marmots.
Whistle-pig? Land-beaver? Hhhmm, never heard those names before. Round these parts we call 'em woodchucks.
There used to be one resident in the backyard at Chez Sarge. The Missus Herself did not care for the beast as he enjoyed gorging himself on the various forms of flora which the Missus Herself has planted upon the grounds of the manse. And upon which she labors for long hours. To produce an effect most pleasing to the eye. Needless to say, the Missus Herself and the aforementioned woodchuck were not on the friendliest of terms. Perhaps come summer I will share some photos of said flora.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Groundhog Day.
The photo above? That's our very own meteorological prognosticating land-beaver himself, Punxsutawney Phil. He's the one without the top hat. Looking rather bemused at being manhandled by a bunch of men wearing hats. (Hhhmm, if they were women, would one say "being womanhandled"? Food for thought. Or not.)
So over to you Phil? Will you see your shadow or not? Time will tell.
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